She talks!!!!

Feels to me like it's time to shake things up. Anything. Everything I can think of. I am not a big fan of complaceny, kind of always craning my neck to see what's up ahead, just around the next bend.

Stay tuned. I think the next couple of years are gonna rock.
Meanwhile, this weeks challenge is to look technology straight in the eye and embrace it as my friend. I came to the realization I've been hiding under my 50's era rock for too long. After days of fretting over a non-responsive laptop, my younger (and ever-so-much smarter) classmate reached over, flicked a switch and brought my lifeless computer back to full function. No one ever told me there was a switch. Is there a MANUAL for this stuff?? Are younger people just BORN with this info???

I don't know.
But I'm up for the challenge and from here on out, I'm not only accepting technology, I'm inviting it into my living room, asking it to put it's feet right up on my couch and embracing it like a favorite visitor come-to-call.

This evenings adventure with my new friend is......VIDEO!!!
Ha! This is no bigga deala to lots of people but I'm telling you what, I've had my challenges with the little camera my son gave me for my computer. Ask my granddaughter about the day I tried to Skype with her and couldn't figure out why I could see HER....but she couldn't see me. (Camera was in my desk drawer the whole time). How patient her little voice....."Grandma just look down in the corner, there is a blue button, just push it....I'm sure you can do it, Grandma Debbie!!!"

Well.
Now I can. And I decided to just dive in and see how it goes.

EPISODE ONE
IS THIS THING ON???????




Lessons immediately learned:

LOOK at the camera, Deb. Eye contact!!! Eye contact!!!
I say "uhm" too much.
And try not to dart around..........a person could get a headache.

Hello from me.
We'll try again in a few days.


XOXO
Deb

Bagel Chat

Crabby guy in green apron at my bagel shop today. First time that's ever happened. Bagel people are usually happy people. He was just outright rude and ignored me as I stood patiently waiting for his attention...someone's attention....at the counter. Kinda annoying but I also remember the 12 hours I worked there and quit. It was a few years back. I needed a job. Yup, 4 hours of training followed by one 8-hour shift and that was enough for me. I cried all the way to the car, my feet and legs hurt so bad, making mental note: places you like to shop and dine won't necessarily be places you'll like to work.

I study at my bagel shop most Sunday's, buying something to nibble on or sip every hour or so. Life unfolds at nearby tables, most of which I completely miss because I'm buried in what I'm doing. But snippets of conversation drift my way......

Young teenager girl and Dad having lunch together:

Teen: Oh you know how it is with mom, Dad. She hasn't changed since you lived with us. I said to her the other day, "You and Dad have very different senses of humor" and mom said, "Yeah, mine's funny."

Girl laughs.
Dad kind of laughs.
She's too young to understand the dig. He's wonderful. Never a negative comment and asks lots of questions requiring open-ended answers about what is going on in the daughter's life. Her new boyfriend: has she met his parents? He listens. Really listens. He's honestly interested in her young life. She's a lucky daughter. I wish I could tap him on the arm when his daughter isn't looking and tell him I think what a great Dad I think he is.

Two sisters and a friend, having coffee and talking about one of the sister's upcoming wedding:

Sister #1: Is Dad giving you away?

Sister #2: No, we think that's stupid. No one is "giving me away". He'll be there but he's a groomsman.

Sister #1: Ohmygod, do NOT make me walk with that man. I'm sorry but that is one thing I refuse to do as a bridesmaid. I will NOT walk with that man.

Sister #2: Don't worry, he's walking with his wife, she's a bridesmaid....

Moms having coffee and bagels, talking about kids that just went off to college:

Lady #1: I just opened up another account in both our names and keep an eye on it. When the balance drops down, I just put another hundred dollars or so in it for him. You know, it's no big deal and just easier that way.

Another lucky kid.

Professor and student:

Professor, comment directed at me as the two of them are getting ready to leave: You seem to be working wayyyy too hard on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

Me, pulling my nose out of the PowerPoint I'm working on and looking at them for the first time: This is my idea of fun. So far they don't have a pill for it.

We chat.
Nice people. They leave.
Time for me to leave, too. Warmed by the friendly conversation I take pity, looking around for the crabby guy in the green apron as I buy a loaf of bread to take home. I think I'll tell him I've had bad days too, I know what it's like and I really do hope he has a better day tomorrow. Can't find him. Next time I see him I'm sure he'll be allllllllll better.

Or maybe not. Wouldn't be surprised if he threw down his apron and walked to his car crying. The bagel business can do that to a person.

Callin' in the Aunties

Me and the cousins had some kinda sweeeeet fun today, playing with ribbons and wire and fall-ish stuff for our nieces wedding next weekend.




We fussed over flowers with a glue gun to make bouquets and stuff for the outdoor ceremony that will be held on their little acreage in Southern Iowa.
It'll be a blue-jeans sort of party, cider and kegs to go with the wedding cake.







Later this week her aunties will bake the wedding cake and we're going to spend all day next Saturday making sure everything is set up pretty and perfect when she walks through the freshly mowed yard on the arm of her Daddy later in the afternoon.

MMmmmmm autumn.

First Class

First class: the people I'm in class with every Tuesday night for 4 hours.
Second class: My photography on this particular evening when we did a couple of team-building exercises on the parking lot. Sorry...........I was trying to juggle my camera in one hand, not let go of the rope with the other and was laughing so hard, I couldn't hold the camera still.

Anyway.............these are some of my best girls. Ladies and gentlemen may I introduce you to...........

The Ladies of MBLD003

They're smart, they're witty, they're busy employees, wives, daughters, mothers and friends. I learn something from them every single week and just feel so very lucky to have landed in their midst a year ago.

And might I add, they can finesse a rope, fast and pretty.






Meanwhile, way out in the back 40, the boys 911 Dr. Johnson and beg him to come untangle them before it gets dark and scary outside. (Love ya, guys)

Well. You really kinda had to be there. It wouldn't make much more sense if I tried to explain it, but we were having some kinda fun in that parking lot.

This is my little three-peeps study group. We sit together in class.
We hang out together on Sundays.

I can't begin to tell you how much I loves these two.
I'm a lucky Debbie to have them on my side.

Dining Alfresco

Our company collaborated with an architectural firm to create a giant sculptural installation. A 30 ton dining table and chairs, fabricated of steel and installed over a walking bridge in Grand Rapids, Michigan is Sticks entry in ArtPrize 2009.
www.artprize.org


Watching the cranes install the pieces via webcam last week was really cool.
Here are a few shots of the installation coming together:








Mable, Mable..........

Random

Random thoughts as the sun sets and the weekend prepares to unfold:

1. My TAB key is broken and it's very annoying.

2. I grow weary of people who lie.

3. The hummingbirds and robins have all flown South, haven't seen either in at least 2 weeks.

4. All those years spent as a stay-at-home mom: WORTH IT.

5. Bummer. Grilled asparagus really doesn't freeze well.

6. Shopping the Lady Clairol aisle without glasses: bad idea

7. Every now and then a great kiss just fixes everything.

8. It's really hard to walk across a yard that's full of acorns.

9. There is always someone with bigger problems.

10. On a great day like today, it's hard to choose a favorite moment but I did watch a big hedgehog munching grass out in the woods and that was pretty cool.

Thanks for the music, Mary

Tennessee Weekend

Nashville is lots shinier than I imagined. And taller.




We took a couple wrong turns. Had to stop and ask for directions. Once we settled in to our hotel, it didn't take much wandering in the humid summer air to find the night side of Nashville. Word to the wise: if you think you're great at karaoke back home in front of the neighbors and a few of your co-workers....you're notsomuch here. Wannabe country music stars grab the mics in bars up and down the streets of Nashville, giving a whole new meaning to the word "amateur". My t-shirt smelled like cigarettes and bar-food by the end of our first evening like you might expect lots of places....you can still smoke in bars down there..........but my ears were filled with music like I've never heard from a karaoke mic anywhere else. I swear I sat and listened to Elvis and Reba and Willie Nelson all evening. Even though, of course, I know this is not possible since I've heard Elvis is working in a Git'n Go in Pulaski, Ohio.

The Country Music Hall of Fame is a great place. The architecture of the building itself is reminiscent of string instruments with windows that line up like the keyboard of a piano. Very cool. While some of us wandered around looking at the displays, one of us engaged a young employee in conversation about the beauties of living in the South. They are many. Escaping Minnesota winters being one of them, he explained, having relocated to Nashville from Minneapolis. While the gift shops are typically full of anything and everything you could possibly want to purchase with Elvis memorialized on it.....from pencil sharpeners to t-shirts to teddy bears and coffee mugs, the halls were filled with memorabilia from country stars past and present.

My daughter would want you to know this is "THE SHIRT that GARTH FREAKIN' BROOKS wore when he did the video for 'The Dance", Ma." Indeed it is. We love Garth.

Visiting Nashville was just a little side benefit of the trip to Tennessee.
The reason three of us traveled to Nashville was to meet up with my daughter, who works in Deer Lodge, Tennessee as a therapeutic counselor at resident youth camping program.

It's an amazingly peaceful, beautiful place.
Sara walks down this path to work from the cabin where she lives when she goes on duty.

We spent part of the weekend at a horse ranch where campers bring their trailers and horses for a weekend of riding and camping.

All around the ranch are campsites with corrals for the visiting horses. At night all the campers sit around the fire and share stories.

Wish you could see this picture better, but I have to include it because it reminds me of the evening around the campfire with a whole bunch of great people, chatting like old friends even though we'd never met before. Sara sang with her guitar with a full moon overhead, shining down on us all through the tall, tall pines.

Great memories.
Great crew.

Great weekend.

AUGUST 2009

Kinda bored with the page background.
Wish I knew more about designing blog pages.
Making note: find someone who knows more than me.

Sitting here watching a public TV special on the the Kennedy family over the years. It's prompted of course, by the death of Ted Kennedy but it starts with Joseph and Rose and has moved right on up through all of the history....on up to the present. Really well done. So nostalgic. I remember it all....the bomb shelter built in the parking lot of a nearby shopping plaza when things got dicey with the Cubans. I wasn't scared, I was just a little kid. But I remember what the yellow and black "Fallout Shelter" signs looked like and how they popped up everywhere.

I was in a third-grade classroom when Mrs. Herron was called to the office. When she returned to class she told us President Kennedy had died, we all had to go home from school early and we should be very quiet and respectful in the halls. The images on TV were all in black and white and there was nothing but death and funeral coverage on all channels...for days. No wonder those images are seared into the memories of all of us who were old enough to understand.

I didn't care much for history when I was a kid in school. Funny how I soak it up like a sponge now. Must come with age. I remember my younger sister having to write a research paper on the Kennedy assassination when she was in high school. She was borrrrrrrrrrred to tears. When she told me just how bored she was with the subject I was incredulous. Seriously!!!??? Since the day it happened I haven't been able to walk past a magazine article or book on the subject without picking it up and diving in. I was there. I remember. It makes all the difference.

A friend of mine died this week, too. Brain cancer. There is something to be said for dying from a terminal illness that lingers just a bit. There is time. Things that need to be said.......get said. Things that need to be done.........get done. The urgency of the every-day hassles we all wrestle with take a back seat to issues of substance and moments of deep and true meaning. Brad left on a positive note, having said and done what had to be said, what had to be done. He'd be the first to tell you, there were many many things that needed to be said to lots of people.
I'm thankful he had the opportunity to stitch up those ragged tears and go home to heaven knowing the fabric of the family he left behind was seamless and whole.

It's human nature to cling to life. It's a deep, primal instinct. Listen to all the talk on the subject these days. Talk radio. Newspapers. Is the government wanting to tell us when it's time to die? Should we be able to choose? Is there an age when we're too old to receive treatment for an illness?

Tonight I was talking to my sister, wondering out loud if it's wrong to pray that someone would die. After months of deteriorating health, our mom is not doing well. She's a woman of great faith and she's weary. There is peace on her face and she's pretty much checked out. She doesn't know us when we walk in the room. She's ready.

I see it in her eyes.

It's a wonderfully grey evening. A steady rain is falling.

Lazy, lazy summer days. The best kind.

It's good to be five and a half.







It's better to be Grandma.

SO Guilty

Does this commercial crack anyone else up??



Ahh technology.
Everything is just so different, are there rule books for this stuff?????

Mike's Graduation Day

It could have rained. No one would have noticed. But it was a blue-sky beautiful summer's day. The grass was green, the breeze was gentle and inside the auditorium the uniforms were pressed, the shoes and badges polished.

Graduation day for our Michael.
It began with the surprise arrival of his favorite little girl in the world.
My dear daughter-in-law Nikki, Victoria's sweet mommy Lisa and I all conspired along with 5-year old Victoria to fly her in for the special occasion...........and keep it a secret. That's a tall order for an almost-Kindergartner!

But we did it! She popped out of the car into the surprised arms of her Daddy, the perfect start to a perfect day.

So let's get this show on the road!!

Class officers as they're introduced. Mike was VP of the 229th graduating class of the
Iowa Law Enforcement Academy

Officially receiving his badge from great friend and cousin Chris, an Iowa State Trooper.

Grandpa Evans graduated from the ILEA in 1973.
He served with the Polk County Sheriff's Department.

The accomplishment is shared by Mike's wife Nikki. They're newlyweds and she kept everything going at home while he was away for the past couple of months.

Proud, proud Grandma.

Mike and his Dad.

Mike graduated on my birthday. Can't think of a better present!
That night at the party we took out some time for cake.

Victoria was busy catching lightning bugs.
She wouldn't let me see him because.....Grandma, I can't. You KNOW he'll fly away!!!

When it got dark we broke out the glow-in-the-dark party bracelets.
This is David's sweetheart of a girlfriend Missy.

Teri and Rodney.

Yet another of my great kids. David. My oldest.

My cousin and traveling buddy, Rhonda.

My daughter-in-law Nikki is super-hostess. She was all over the back yard all evening like the Energizer bunny, making sure everyone had food and drinks. She had a pink pig pinata for the little kids, fireworks and packages of powdered donuts for everyone.....get it.....donuts...cops.....love it.

Mike and Nik's yard is huge and there were groups of people all over it in lawn chairs, at picnic tables, relaxing around the fire pit, checking out the garden. After I filled up a little plate of food and made my rounds saying hello, I spent the rest of the evening tucked into a corner of their deck where we had a great view of the party going on in the yard.

Candlelight made for some blurry pics but I had to include them because I had such a great time with these friends. Janie and my cousin, Sherilyn. A couple of my veteran Camper Girls.

My cousin Rodney. One of my favorite guys in the whole world.

Didn't take long after the kids started swinging. Soon all that was left of the piggy pinata was piles of candy on the ground and a nice, pink, pig head.

Inside, in the spirit of the days surprises, Victoria takes careful aim and nails Grandpa with a can of silly string when he isn't lookin'.

It was a great day. Much more so than my photos show
Congratulations Mike, your family is proud of you.

Seriously.......!!!!!!

It takes two airplanes, one long walk through the underground tunnel at O'Hare, a cheese pizza, one bag of gummy fish, four bathroom stops and three bottles of water to get from Virginia to Iowa on the best of days. In between we read books, complete fabulous art projects and talk and wave to every little kid rolling by in a stroller.

Other days, it takes a little longer.
Throw in a box of McNuggets, a stuffed "I Love Chicago" beanie bear and five or six rides up and down the terminal on the moving sidewalk, just because it's fun. All the while in search of a quiet bench where we can sit and wait. And wait. And wait.

And wait.

Finally we get on the plane.
We buckle in. We adjust the lights. We adjust the fan. We raise and lower the window shades, just to make sure they work. And we wait. And wait.

Entertaining ourselves while the pilot gets ready to take us home.

Listening to the headsets helps pass the time.

And you'd think a Grandma would know, when you're listening to music on a pair of headphones, you're not listening to questions grown-ups ask.

Ohhhhhh well.

Do I Detect Man-Sweat in the Neighborhood????

Princes Charming ThisGuyFromOutEast and ThisGuyFromOverWest rolled in just about time for lunch. "Anything we can help with?" they asked. My keen eyes detected rippling muscles and brute strength beneath the sleeves of their summer t-shirts.

Well...



Actually, you could move a couple of things from the garage to the upstairs. Like that dresser over there. It's pretty heavy though......



After moving furniture we all sat outside and had sandwiches, some beverages and lovely conversation during which they mentioned when they offered to help they sorrrrrrta had in mind something along the lines of chopping vegetables.....maybe husking the sweet corn. The whole dresser-thing??? Well. That was a bit of a surprise.

Y'know what? They dove right in and took care of business. That big dresser was up my stairs and in my bedroom before I'd fried up the bacon or sliced the tomatoes. I love that about guys from out of town. They ended up cleaning my whole garage.

Thanks boys. Big smooches to the top of both your precious heads. Youz the bestest.



And more of the same to my best girl who kept us smiling and laughing as we enjoyed the summer afternoon. A thousand hugs to my little one. Good to have you home.

Kick Off Your Sunday Shoes

I had horrible shoes when I was a kid. This was before rows and rows of try-'em-on-yourself styles at WalMart and Payless. We shopped at proper shoe stores and my feet were short and wide. Like Flintstone feet sorta. I remember a shoe guy dropping that torturous Victorian metal measuring deal with the slide in-thing for foot width near my toes and laughing to my mom, "This kids foot is shaped like a loaf of bread."

Thanks for making a 3rd-grade kid feel special, Bubba.

All this as background to let you know why I love looking at shoes. Other peoples shoes. Not mine. My head it still back in that old shoe store, intimidated and self-conscious. I buy functional shoes in sensible colors and styles that I wear until they fall apart. But I LOVE looking at the fun shoes OTHER people choose.

My Tuesday night class is a parade of foot fashion.

Are those too cute????

And how about these???
Yup, the ladies in my class have some fun, fun shoes.

When I see them walk into class in the shoe-choice-o-the-week, it always makes me think of one of my favorite all-time songs and videos. You know how everyone has at least one movie they would watch over and over and over and never tire of it? This video comes from one of mine. Love Kevin Bacon. Loved the movie. My first car was a VW bug just like his.
And oh how I loved to dance before my knees turned to Cap'n Crunch.

Enjoy.

Hail Yes, it Hailed

You gotta see this.
The wind came up around midnight.
The rain started.
And then it hailed.

From my second floor bedroom I could hear the chunks of ice hitting the shingles and knew they had to be big. It didn't last long, but for a short while it sounded like God was dumping out the ice cube trays of heaven.

Next morning I checked out the pots on my patio to see how my flowers and plants had weathered the storm. Everyone seemed to be fine but I found evidence of the the night's drama in one pot.

Take a look.



One of the pots took a direct hit from a hailstone and left a crater as evidence.
That was a pretty big chunk of ice. And I should mention I left my car parked outside that night instead of tucking it in the garage.



Yeah, there are three dents. Not enough to clear my deductible but the biggest one is right in the middle of the hood so I can enjoy looking at it until the wheels fall off my car.

Gotta love Mother Nature, that girl has one wicked sense of humor.

Bug

I was driving home from work this afternoon after leaving the building a few minutes early. As I walked down the sidewalk to my car, I felt something on the top of my head. Like something dropped out of the tree branches overhead. A leaf maybe??? I swept the top of my head with my hand and continued to my car.

It was warm outside, I had my windows rolled down like always. I'm cruising down the road, singing with the radio when something sort of itched on the back of my neck. I reached back there....and felt a HUGE bug sitting just below my hairline. A big ol' crusty June-bug kinda bug, if my sense of feel is right. Could be wrong. I screamed and went into serious survival mode.

Yeah, he was biting me. Or nibbling or something.
And helllllll yeah I screamed LOUD and I swerved the car with my right hand as I grabbed the bug with my left hand and flung it out the window.

I never really SAW it.
I felt it. (Yuck!!!)
And I heard it. (ZZZzzz. YUCK!!!!!)
Out of the corner of my eye it was dark and ominously huge.
Fanged, possibly. Can't be sure.
Dangerous?
I'm certain.

I hate bugs.
No picture to prove it but I can feel a little welt on my neck. I'm sure it's there.
They say June bugs don't bite. THEY have never had a June bug on their neck.
Dang thing bit me.
I SWEAR it.

And that's just about as much adventure as I care to enjoy today.

Sand in my Hair

One of my favorite weekends of the summer: just a couple of plane hops to Stone Harbor, a bit of a drive down the Atlantic City Expressway and we're tucking ourselves into seaside saltbox bedrooms. I go to sleep listening to the ocean roar beyond the sand dunes that rise just a handful of yards from my open window. In the morning I walk the beach as seagulls breakfast out of the morning tide and leave open shells for me to collect and carry back to Iowa. I'll cement the little hinged memories into my patio birdbath and remember the mornings I gloried in the simple luxury of an outdoor shower. There is something so decadently delicious about shampooing your hair in the morning sunshine.

It's a working weekend, most of which is spent talking to customers at Trendz Gallery in Stone Harbor, New Jersey. Once I shower the sand from my feet after my morning walk it's all about Sticks until well after dark, but you won't hear any complaining from me. Saturday as I sat in the outdoor garden where we meet with customers all weekend I looked around and sighed and laughed to my co-worker and friend Amy, who traveled with me to the show, "sucks to be us..."

I took pictures of everything I could see from my spot on the bench under the blue Atlantic skies.


This is where holly spends it's summers, I guess. Before it packs up and heads to Iowa in the form of Christmas wreaths.



In between visits with customers I dropped crumbs of a blueberry muffin on the ground for little birds and they entertained me by taking their morning bath in this fabulous piece that sits in the shade of the garden.



A metal sculpture combining a contemporary design and process with a vintage sentiment.

I love garden art.

Inside the gallery a new friend and sales rep for Heather Moore's line of beautiful, handcrafted gold and silver charm jewelry was helping shore visitors choose and design one-of-a-kind pieces. Fabulous jewelry. Just gorgeous. Fun to spend the weekend with you, Gabriella. Keep in touch!!

Ok, a little weird. I'd have to agree.

But aren't they fun?!!!

I love the contrast of these smooth stone eggs against the random ribbons of glass another artist wove into sweet little dishes. The eggs are tiny, like quail.

Not to forget my best girls. Sticks Hallelujah Ladies.
At Stone Harbor, they're mermaids with fabulous hair and the requisite sea shells placed....just so.....to cover their assets.

What is great art?
Ponder that a bit. There is no "right" answer.
It's different for all of us.

For me, it's something that makes me smile.

I Love a Truck Stop

I do! I love truckstops.
Haven't wandered one yet that I couldn't find some sweet, trashy little Hello-From-Ogalalla souvenir kinda thing that I've just got to take home and keep forever and ever.

Mid-Nebraska we hit a roadside BP fill-er-up and there it was: the perfect Independence Day commemorative. Sparkly and snazzy, a red, white and blue burst of fireworks on a long enough chain that it hung juuuuuuuuuuust right, all cozy and everything.



God Bless America, is this a great country or what.
Bernie thinks so. I could tell by the look in his eyes. Teri and I fell in love with BP Bernie when he nodded approval over our necklace purchases from behind the Waco counter. A nice lady coming out of the women's restroom was kind enough to snap a picture. As they say............the rest is history.

Isn't that a face and a smile you could just give a big ol' kiss?



We LOVE you Bernie!!!! See you next trip!!!!

My Best Judy

I met my friend Judy years ago when I spent time in Denver studying. Feeling just a bit displaced and slightly lost in the wake of my recent divorce, she adopted me like she's done with countless other wayward souls over the years. She's been like a mom to me ever since. Our relationship has been mostly via email exchanges flying back and forth between the our keyboards over the years because of the distance between our homes.

The few in-person visits we've enjoyed are memorable treats. She has enlightened me and taught me through her experiences and wisdom. She's an incredible person. Gatherings in her little home --- which I've described here before --- can best be described as "holding court": Judy, usually in pink, center-stage, regaling the likes of me and her other friends, with tales of her life. She makes us laugh until we hurt.

Judy is a woman of great faith. I've learned so much through her eyes and gentle suggestions. A few years back Judy told me she was driving in the mountains, something she just loved to do. She had a destination in mind but no real time schedule. At some point as she drove along enjoying the morning she explained to me she felt like she was supposed to pull off the road. She did so, parking the car on a side road and looked around at the beautiful scenery. In that moment, a beautiful, bright rainbow appeared and....as she described it....just surrounded her with the most incredible colors and sense of peace she had ever, ever experienced. She sat there for the longest time, enveloped in the moment and feeling like she was experiencing the arms of God wrapped around her. Rainbows became a special symbol to Judy.

It wasn't too many months after that moment in the mountains, Judy was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. It was in her lungs and her bones and oh my goodness, I'm not sure where else, it was just everywhere. "Termites" she called them, not tumors. She defied the doctors insistence she'd be dead and buried within a couple months time. "If it's all the same to you," she said "I'm not ready to leave yet."

No, she certainly was not. It's more than 2 years later.

I emailed Judy in June to tell her my best friend Teri and I were coming to spend the 4th of July with her. A frenzy of emails flew back and forth, I'm sure she fussed over her apartment a bit. She told me she was making a grocery list so we could shop for her once we arrived. Last Thursday Teri and I threw our bags in the car and headed West toward Denver.

Life truly is what happens while we're making all our grand plans. As we covered the miles across Nebraska toward the Rocky mountains, Judy's little body reached the point she'd had just about enough. By the time we arrived in Colorado her family had tucked her into the comforting arms of hospice where she is now free of pain, surrounded by her family and waiting for the moment she finally goes home.

We didn't see Judy this weekend.
We decided it would be best to let her family have their final moments with her and we will remember her the way we saw her last: smiling, laughing, fussing over our coffee cups with refills, covering our knees with deliciously soft chenille throws for the chill in the winter air and whispering a gentle warning.....Debbie, don't tip back in that chair, it's' old and it's cracked............just as I did exactly that and landed flat on my back in the middle of her living room. Everyone felt like royalty at Judy's house. How befitting she'll soon be wearing a crown in heaven.

The coolest thing happened on the way home from Denver. Rain fell as we drove out of town. We were talking about the weekend. Talking about Judy and our memories of her. Beyond Denver, wide spaces opened up, green and lush against a dark, stormy sky. As the wipers swiped across the windshield of my car, a rainbow appeared. It was intense, bright and beautiful. Incredibly so. It was like we were driving toward the most brilliant, colorful arch of light you could imagine.

And then...........


.....the arm of the rainbow stretched down out of the sky.......

....over the road.....

...........until it touched the hood of the car. Literally. As we drove, the filmy golds and pinks and greens glistened off the hood of our car in the rain. Just as Judy experienced perfect peace all those long months ago, we felt it now, reminded of the grace with which she has walked through this long and difficult battle with her termites.


An amazing rainbow, the perfect ribbon wrapped around what has been the most beautiful gift of a friendship with an amazing woman. We love you, Judy.

Smells Like Fresh Rubber

Why is Debbie smiling as the wind blows in her hair?
Because it's a fabulously, beautiful day after a week of sweltering heat and humidity, the sky is blue and the temps have dropped and.........




And because I just got new tires on my car.


No........tires are not that exciting.
No........I don't like hanging out in the auto shop for an hour on a gorgeous morning where I have to write a check for over five hundred dollars before all is said and done. For tires. TIRES. Not the most exciting thing in the world to shop for or purchase. But my sweet little car needed 'em so that's what she got.

The car is happy.
And that makes mama happy.
Vrooom Vroooooom

Arrowhead Stadium in the Summer

The kids were little. The boys maybe 5 and 7, their little sister toddling around on 3-year old legs. The annual Family Picnic was rolling around, same time, same place, same relatives. That's ok. Those aunts of mine make a wicked potato salad, well worth the trip to the other side of the county. I promised to be there.

Until I heard the announcement on the radio.
The concert was scheduled to be held three hours away in Kansas City at Arrowhead Stadium. Tickets would be sold by lottery with only a certain number available for Iowa buyers. We tried. Ohhh man we tried! Sad and disappointed, the ticket lottery came and went, leaving us empty-handed. We scoured the newspapers but the scalp prices were crazy.....$300 for a pair to start out. Closer to the concert date the prices came down a bit, but not much. This was wayyyy back when and that was one huge pile of money for a concert in KC.

I caught a glimpse of the ad as I was flipping through the newspaper.

Six tickets for the Jackson concert in KC.
We'll sell them for what we paid for them.
$50 bucks each.

I called the guy and offered him everything but a gallon of my blood to hold the tickets until I could get to his front door in a neighboring town. I called my cousin. We couldn't believe it. We were on our way!!!!! A week later on a sweltering summer day I grabbed my baby sister, taped a "Don't start without us, Michael!!!" sign in the back window of the car, picked up my cousin as we sent our husbands and kids to the family reunion without us (bad bad girls!!!!) and headed down to KC.

That I somehow managed to lock the car keys AND the concert tickets into the trunk of the car in the black asphalt parking lot of the stadium later that afternoon in 100-degree temperatures is a memory that pales in comparison to that of the distance we had to climb to reach our seats in Arrowhead Stadium. I'm not sure how far up we were but I do remember passing a sign that said "Nosebleed Section" at which level the ushers were handing out oxygen bottles to those of us that still had about 23 rows left to climb. Once seated I swear to you I saw all my dead relatives float by on clouds with a wave and curious looks on their faces that said, "What the hell are you doing up here, it's not your time yet......"

Soooo what!!! We were THERE!!!!!!
From our celestial vantage point, while the rest of the crowd hummed in ignorant anticipation, we were able to see the vans pull up back stage as the Jackson brothers arrived. With the use of high-powered binoculars we could actually get a good enough look to figure out which one was Michael. He was the one little miniature person wayyyyyyyyyyy wayyyyyyyyyyy down there wearing a glove on one hand.

My cousin saw him first. She threw down the binoculars, shrieked "Michael is down there!!!!" and we all started to scream.

"How do you know!!!! How do you know it's HIM!!!???????"

We were all crying and screaming.
"THE GLOVE!!! I CAN SEE THE GLOVE!!!!!!!!"

Lower levels of the stadium hadn't a clue but those of us up in the rafters with our scalped tickets got the first glimpse of Michael Jackson before he hit the stage on his Thriller tour in Kansas City, Missouri. It was him all right. We could see him. Well..........we could see the glove. It was him. IT WAS HIM!!!!!!

OH!!! MY!!! GOD!!!!!!!
OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!!!!!!!

I watched him grow up. First time I saw him was at the Iowa State Fair. He was the cute little brother of the Jackson 5. Before all the craziness. The nose. The kids. Before he wouldn't sell the Beatles tunes back to Paul. Before all the ugliness started. Who knows what was true. What were lies. Who knows what happens along the way to make a talented little boy grow up to have so many problems. He's gone and we'll never really know.

I choose to remember him just like I saw him on that sweltering summer day. He danced across the stage with his brothers in heat that had me panting for air. And I was just jumping up and down screaming. We got our $50 bucks worth, for sure.

I said you wanna be startin somethin',
You got to be startin' somethin,
Said you wanna be startin' somethin,
You got to be startin' something....


Thanks for the music.
Thanks for the great memories.

Soggy-tuck Michigan

The rain started coming down this weekend where I was working. I've told you about Saugatuck before; quaint little artsy town on the shores of Lake Michigan. 1,000 people before tourists. Three times that in the summer, lots of wandering folks and girls like me, in town to work at a wonderful gallery in the center of town.

The rain started coming down on Friday as we drove in, making us weave and crawl our way through miles and miles of road construction barriers and cones in a one-by-one curtain of mud-flap spray and blurred tail lights. Every warning about hydro-planing my drivers ed. teacher Mr. Peacock ever gave me came to mind. Visibility was just this side of zip. The sun broke through and pushed the clouds away just as we arrived. Good sign.

But it started raining again and it just kept coming down. We grabbed umbrellas mid-evening and walked a quick 2 blocks to dinner. The rain kept coming down. And down. And dowwwwwwn. We saw lightning. We heard thunder. The restaurant lights flickered. Once. Twice. Diners held their breath and shoveled in supper, wondering if we'd all end up in the dark.

An hour later when we stepped outside the restaurant we found ourselves on a small sidewalk island in an ocean of rain water. Within 4-5 steps beyond the entry of the place the "puddles" started.

I hesitate to call them puddles. Puddles are the sort of thing that babies splash up from the bath. Puddles are the naughty little pools that a new puppy leaves on the kitchen floor when he can't hold back how happy he is to see you. I know puddles. People drool them on pillows.
I savor them in the middle of my mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving. I KNOW puddles.
These were not puddles. These were more like the arms of nearby Lake Michigan reaching up from the banks and shoving her hands down the street where she could pull you in by the ankles. I am not kidding you, when I stepped off the restaurant stoop into that water I swear I saw the Edmund Fitzgerald and wondered if the church bells were going to ring for me tomorrow. This was SERIOUS WATER.

There was no avenue of escape, we just had to take off our shoes and wade, lamp post to lamp post until we made it back to our little guest house. That's just what we did. And you know how it is, you're in the water, you're wet. Why not preserve the moment in photographs.

So I stopped in the middle of the street, pulled out my camera, protected it (sort of) with my umbrella (which had blown inside out, so it wasn't providing a great deal of protection from anything really anyway) and took a couple of pictures of my friends Sandra and Angie they clung to one another for dear life and made their way up the sidewalk in front of me.



I'll bet your are looking at that picture and thinking "is that water really almost up to her skirt?" Yes, it was. Had the three of us held hands, pointed our toes and done a little bit of a wavy thing with our arms we could easily have been mistaken for a synchronized swimming team. Sorry the photos are blurry. I was trying to balance the camera and the umbrella and my purse with my shoes in my hands. You get the idea.

Wet. Really, reallllly wet.

We finally reached our little second floor guest house where I slept like a baby with the wind in the treetops outside my open window. The sounds of storms continued well into the wee hours of the morning. It was only as the sun came up that everyone in town began to discover their basements were flooded, the roads were caved in, trees had uprooted and all those fabulous bedding plants they'd tucked into the ground a few weeks earlier were halfway to Chicago.

We know all about floods here in Iowa.
As we left yesterday I told them all our hearts were with them but really, it was too early for them to even understand what I meant. Unfortunately, they'll come to understand all too clearly..........later.

What Sunday Looks Like

This is what Sunday looks like.



Week to week it's pretty much the same table, different books.
Have laptop, will travel. Maybe a bagel. Usually a coffee.
There is always company. Three of us in our study group.
This is Jill.



She's one of my study partners and my great friend. We sat down for our first night in class together right around the time my Sara moved away. They're the same age and so of course I've added her to my little herd of adopted family members. Our co-partner in our three-peoples team of crime fighters is John. He left before the camera came out today. One of these days I'll introduce you to him.

Anyway, Jill had a wee bit of a disappointment this week. Big deal at the time. Based on my own experiences, in the grand context of things, a teensy little blip on the screen that she'll learn from and forget. Do you doubt it? Just look at that smile....



Love ya, Jilly!! You'll get by with your great attitude and perhaps for a short while, with a little help from your friends.

Happy Birthday Bucky!!!

Yesterday one of my favorite people turned the ol' odometer from old to older than dirt. To loosely quote his personal sentiments on the auspicious occasion, he is now "a card carrying member of the KMA club." Or something like that. You get the idea. We're old enough we don't give a whoopteedo 'bout what anyone thinks, we pretty much live life as it feels right for us and go about our biz unfettered by the opinions of others.

I love that about people my age. And I love my friend Bucky to pieces. I've kinda known him since I was a junior high kid where we skated around the same roller rink on Saturday nights. Years later our families lived in the same small town, raising our kids and working together at the same widdy-biddy post office. We think alike, which isn't necessarily a compliment to either of us, just an acknowledgment that one loose screw deserves another when it comes to choosing friends.

If you pass him on the street on a work day, he'll be nattily dressed as a mild-mannered shirt and tie sort of fella. After hours, he'll just look like Grandpa. I thought I'd dress him up for his birthday since every little boy at one point or another wants to be a cowboy when he grows up.

If you pass him on the street this weekend, wish him a Happy Birthday.



And ask him for directions to the nearest buffalo.

All things green and glorious

Before I left for the airport I tucked everyone in......My cat. He had a full bowl of food, a tidy litter box, radio on upstairs in case he got lonely and an open window so he could sit and enjoy the fresh air.

My plants. Watered, shades open so they got plenty of sunshine. Outdoors I gave all of the newly potted flowers a good watering and whispered a little "good luck" as I threw my suitcases into the car. They were on their own, at the mercy of the weather which...this time of year......can be completely unpredictable.

One week later I come home and whooooaaaaa................everything is lush and green and gorgeous. Except for a flat of sad little guys I forgot to stick in the dirt. To the untrained eye they look ohhh-so-pathetic and quite dead.

For example, this sorry little zinnia.
I choose zinnia's because my townhouse faces South and the summer sun on my patio can be wicked. Strong plants that thrive on all-day sun survive, but only if I water them twice a day. Not watering baby zinnias before they are planted and still living in little greenhouse packs is pretty much a death sentence if you leave them alone for a week. Good and caring garden chicks would not do this. Sadly, I hang my head in shame. I forgot to plant them.

Feeling terribly guilty I started poking around under all that brown, crunchy stuff a bit and got all excited when I found a tiny, tender little green stem. Hmmmmmmmm. A chance to redeem myself. This is a challenge and I'm going to meet it. Tonight I tucked four of these cripsy-critter lookin' guys into fresh dirt and I'm gonna baby 'em back to life or ruin my fingernails trying.


Half an hour down the road another botanical tragedy was taking place as I whiled away the hours working in Las Vegas last week. Take a look at this pretty little miniature rose I had sitting on my desk at work. Sweet, huh?


My desk is on the second floor of our studio. As you can see, just beyond the steel rail that keeps me from falling to my death every time I dive for an errant paper that shoots out of my printer with a mind of it's own, are big doors that open into the fresh air of the outdoors. Seemingly the perfect place for a lovely little rose to thrive, right?

Wrong.
Super-wrong. This is the same miniature rose. Oh what a difference a week makes.

It withered, wilted, drooped and pretty much gave itself up for mulch in the short six days I was gone. Disappointed? You bet I was disappointed. You don't wither up and die on my watch, buster. Home to the intensive care nursery for you.

Tonight he got a good clipping, a new pot and a spot in the sun next to several other plants who know how to behave. Hopefully he'll learn by example.

Before I took off my garden gloves this afternoon I had one more very important pot to fill. Here, I'll give you a peek.



This pot is a surprise. I can't tell you what is under the dirt until later. I can tell you, you're gonna love it.................IF all goes as planned. Fingers crossed............stay tuned.

I LOVE Cab Drivers

I do love cab drivers. I meet lots of them throughout the year and wonder if anyone has ever done a study on the collective personalities of a city's cabbies in relation to the city itself. Does that group of mobile ambassadors reflect anything about the city in which they live and work?

I think they might.
Twice in Philadelphia I've been taken on the tell-tale "ride".........you know, the ride where you get in the cab, tell the driver where you want to go and he ends up driving around in loops just to knock the fare up a few bucks because he knows you're from out of town and won't know the difference. Problem is, I know the difference in Philly because I have worked there lots. Enough to know a cab ride from one spot to another should take about so many minutes. But I don't know my way around enough to be able to tap the guy on the shoulder and say "Dude, you shoulda turned back there....why didn't you?" I just don't trust cabbies in Philly.

It took me several rides in another city to decide they apparently never hire people who speak English. First few rides the drivers kept mumbling and I assumed they were talking to me. I listened, trying to understand them and respond. Took me a while to realize they speaking Hindi or Guatamalish or Ethiopian, they were talking into the blue tooth headset in their ear....and I'm pretty sure they were saying something along the lines of "Dumb American chick in my back seat thinks I'm trying to talk to her."

In the city where I live, the only sure spot to find a taxi cab is at the airport.
If you're visiting town, don't plan on eating out and then catching a cab back to your hotel after dinner. Huh-uh. These streets ain't the Field of Dreams, folks. If you build up your hopes of a ride home..............there is no promise they will come. If you make the call on Wednesday, make sure you've got provisions to get you through the weekend just in case. It's going to be a long wait. On the other hand, if you are at the airport and you want a ride home after a return flight, you won't have a problem. Jack (named changed to protect me) is always there waiting. At least he always seems to be there waiting for me. Last three times I hitched a cab ride home from the airport, Jack was curbside to grab my bags. Jack is a friendly cab driver. Very friendly. He's chatty too. He will ask you if you had a good trip. He will ask you if you like to travel. He will ask you if your husband or boyfriend likes it that you travel. The FIRST time he asks you that, you will tell him you're not married................and then he'll tell you his wife doesn't understand him and.....well, you know where this is going.

Rewind and tell Jack the friendly cab driver that your husband the former Marine drill instructor black belt in karate and gold medal-winning Olympic sharp-shooter has a terrible temper and HATES it that you travel. Jack will dispatch you to the doorstep swiftly, help you with your luggage and graciously decline your tip.

Speaking of friendly...........I'm working in Las Vegas this week.
And this is my new favorite cab driver.



He greeted us with a genuine smile, chatted all the way to the hotel, slowed down a bit so we could gawk at a fender bender that did mean things to a real expensive car and hummed out loud, declaring "she sure has nice booty" when we passed a billboard announcing Beyonce was coming to town soon.
Who could disagree and I do love genuine, unbridled enthusiasm in anyone.

Thanks for the ride, Ernesto.

Great Weekend

I should be in bed. I've been off four days, I want to be at work early tomorrow because I'm working out of town all next weekend. Dang, but I just can't make myself close the door on this holiday weekend until the verrrrry last minute...which has just about arrived.

The bike is assembled!! Heck yeah!!!
Rode it on Friday afternoon. Need to make some adjustments but me and the tools made peace, we put the bike together and it actually looks just like the picture on the website. I'll take some pictures.

The rest of the weekend was just fun. Went to street festival with the kids on Saturday. The clouds opened up just about the time we arrived and rain pretty much closed down the party. We stood around yakking in the rain which was fun anyway. We had two little 1-year old's with us, teensy little girls in sandals that have just recently learned to walk and they both were completely delighted at discovering street puddles. While everyone else was hiding under umbrellas and tarps, the two of them gleefully pranced around in the water, completely oblivious to the falling rain. Can't imagine they could have had any more fun unless maybe they were naked...everyone knows babies love runnin' around stripped down to the birthday suit.

Sunday afternoon my study group...whereas I might add we have recently streamlined our fine selfs down to a compact unit of three members who get along famously.... met here at my place. John just got back from duty in Italy and brought some wine that he thoughtfully carried all the way back on the plane. Jill brought crackers and this cream cheese/jalapeno jelly stuff that is wicked delish. I threw together some sandwiches and we had ourselves a bit of a party under the shade of the patio umbrella. As a nice breeze blew we spent a little bit of time discussing our strategy for next weeks in-class debate on smoking, religion and stuff, a lot of time talking about life in general and what we plan to be when we grow up. By the end of the second bottle Jill (the youngster in the group, I might add) needed to nap on my couch, John was pontificating on the wardrobe preferences of Middle Eastern women and I'd become more intelligent than you could possibly imagine.
I slept pretty darned good last night.

Company always tuckers out my Binks.



He's been like this most of the day. I swear we didn't give him a drop of wine
but I have a feeling last night after I went to bed he was down here licking corks.

My flag few today. Thanks to my son and my best ESteven and Michael in Oregon and Donnie and Russ and Deb and my step-dad and FIL, my uncles and cousins and all of those who served. Thanks to Greg who I follow on Facebook. And John who might be deployed before we have a chance to graduate together.
Thank you, thank you all.

It's time. Day is done.
Off to bed and bring on the summer.

Holiday Weekend Eve

I am twitchy, giddy and generally all a-twitter on the eve of this holiday weekend. My Memorial weekend slate is clean with only fun stuff scheduled. Breakfast with my cuz. A little soiree with my study group. Indeed, my weekend is a calendar of hours just open and waiting for lovely things to happen. I'm going to unfold the next four days like a love letter, one careful crease at a time. Mmmm mmm mmmmmmm. I'm staying up late tonight (read that 9 pm or so....) just so I can prolong the anticipation and spend the evening nibbling on the idea of the unfettered days to come.

I bought tools. Spanners and closed-end thingies in 13mm and 15mm and I dunno what else. A smart gal suggested I hit her favorite upscale tool supply store with my shopping list so I did. Thanks Jan, you were right. They had everything I needed at Target.

Well.......I think I got the right stuff....I'm not positive. None of the tool stuff was labeled like the words in the bike book. I had to shop-by-picture, using the stuff I found when I Googled all the tool names last night.

Hey people!!!!! I think I'm gonna put a bike together tonight!!!!

That's the plan anyway.
More at 11.

Boxes on the Porch

Today is a very exciting day! Came home to find both the UPS guy AND the FedEx guy had visited my front porch. Two boxes to open, ohhh man I LOVE getting stuff from those guys.

First box. Ripped it open with a bottle opener. Pair of shoes! Yeahhh! That new pair of sandals I ordered. Pulled them right out of the box, slipped them on.......easy!



Next box. Bigger. Lots bigger.
It's my bike!!!! I ordered a bike a couple of weeks ago and it's here!!! I'm so excited I could spit. But this is a job for something a little more serious than a bottle opener. Nooooo problem! My craft scissors work nicely. The big staples holding the corners of the box together bend pretty easy and............

Oh.

Ok. Sooooo apparently you don't just rip open the box, slide out the bike and start riding it around the house. (Which yknow, is pretty much the way it works with shoes: open box, put on shoes, walk to mirror, admire feet, congratulate self on great choice....yada yada.)

Not so much with the bike.

Oh dear.

Sheesh. This is looking like some serious business and my happy face is starting to get sad.


Things always look better in the living room. I carry the various pieces in, prop them on the carpet and resolve to face disassembled scary bike like a big girl - with tools!!! I have some!!! How tough can this be..........there's gotta be a little instruction sheet here somewhere, I'm sure it's just a sliding A into B kinda thing. Five minutes and I'll be pedaling down the street. Now where is that instruction sheet.....................

Err...I mean, 64 page Bicycle Owners Manual and Assembly Instructions. This is the part where lesser women hiss and say "ohhhh sh*t!" Not me, baby. Nope. I march to the tool drawer and lay out my nice collection of tools.

I have a nice hammer, some pliers, five flat screwdrivers in a variety of colors and some pointy-pinchy things. And sometimes a big ol' knife and spatula come in handy, too.

Ok, let's tackle this baby and get out there on the bike trail.

The bike assembly instructions aren't bad. I think I can do it. But I'm up a creek, I have never HEARD of these tools. Spanner??? What the...or is that scanner.....put on my glasses. Nope, it's spanner. It says I have to use a 13mm spanner and I haven't a clue. And once I'm done with that, I'm supposed to use a 15mm open ended spanner.

Not to be outdone by a booklet of instructions printed in plain English, I take my study skills straight into the pages of the manual, highlight the unidentified tools and turn to my good friends at GOOGLE. What the freakin' heck is a spanner!!!???????

Huh??? Doesn't that have to be hooked to something like a handle or something? Crum. None of my screwdrivers look anything LIKE that thing.

Or this thing. So yeah. This is the part where I get sigh and say Ohhhhhhhhh sh*t.

And then, of course, I get a grip and do what I always do in situations like this.

I make toast.

What can I say, I'm a stress-eater. Some people pop a Zoloft, some people grab a beer. Me?

I make toast.

I don't know what I'm gonna do now. I feel just a little bit like I might cry.

I won't. But I kinda feel like it.

I'll figure it out.

Stay tuned.

From Wayyyy back when...

Went out for dinner with a guy I used to date in high school. He lives in Oregon and was visiting family back here for the first time in years. Had to grab pizza at an old haunt that hasn't changed much more than an occasional light bulb since the year we graduated. Even the menu looks exactly the same.

Best thin crust pizza on the planet, if we're voting.

Mike went to a different high school than I did. He played football. Nice smile. Laughed easily. Lots of fun. We used to zip around town in his little white car. Soon as we graduated he joined the Air Force. Although we've kept in touch off and on over the years, we've probably crossed paths in person maybe three times since wayyy back when.

After flipping stories back and forth across the table we did a little tour of the city and took a nice, slow drive through the Iowa State Fairgrounds and the old neighborhood where he used to play as a kid. Fun night. Unfortunately I was out of town on business nearly the entire time he was here so we only had the one night to catch up but it was a good time. He's a proud dad and Grandpa. I had to laugh at the amount of time we spent talking about our kids and grandkids. Somethin' so wonderful about the spark in an old friends eyes when they're talking about their kids and grandbabies.

Doubt I could convince my kids to believe it but some of you are old enough to know it's really true........the memories you make when you are young are even sweeter when you relive them with old friends.

Yup. Getting older is lots of fun.

Weekend in Asheville

I'll tell you what, I sipped myself into some serious state of Sweet Tea Oblivion this weekend. I have a great recipe and reputation for it myself, but there is something about the way a tea bag steeps in the shadow of the Smoky Mountains that gives that fabulous tea a most wonderful flavor. Mmmm and oooohhhh shugah!!!!!

I was in the Carolina's working at a wonderful place called New Morning Gallery located in Asheville. The region is known for it's artisans, skilled in all manner of traditional American craft. These are skills that have been handed down from generation to generation. The motto of the gallery is "art for living" and you'll see why as you move on down through the pictures.

The gallery features the finest American Craft work you can find. The wonderful thing is that it's not "don't-touch" art........I love wall art and they have lots of that too, but the store is filled with American Craft art which is functional, textural, touchable and intended to be integrated and used.....as their motto suggests....into your every-day living.

Take a walk with me through the place and I'll show you some really cool stuff......

I especially like fun, sorta odd-ball sculptural pieces. Lots of them to be found in galleries like this. You'd be hard-pressed to find a formal bust of one of the Vanderbilts in this place (although they built the famous Biltmore Estate in Asheville) but there are plenty of crazy dogs and cats and crows and............

......cute little pottery ladies with an attitude.

All over the gallery you'll find hand-crafted tables set with wonderfully creative pottery pieces. On the shelves are place settings of unique pottery and rows and rows of glassware. If you look closer, you'll note that the goblets are hand-blown glass. The pieces are all signed by the artists.

You don't find stuff like this on the shelves at Pottery Barn.

One of my favorite American Craft artists is Chris-Roberts Antieau. She patches her pieces together using wonderful vintage fabrics, outlining each image in beautiful embroidery stitches.

And more glass........

Could you set a suhhh-WEEET table with pretty things like this!!????

Ahhhem, might you please pass the crumpets.......

For a gal who enjoys most of her beverages from a blue Walgreens tumbler, just picking one of these goblets up to read the artist name on the bottom makes me feel a little bit elegant. And look at the kind of magic they create using their glass-work skills for these beautiful chandeliers.

Nice beak, Mister.

Brian Andreas is another great artist. His studio is in Decorah, Iowa and you'll see his work all over the country. I could stand and read the themes of his prints for hours. I picked this one out as a favorite this weekend because it reminds me of my daughter..........

I collect stars and shiny glass things that hang in my window and catch the light. Every time I work in a gallery, I choose another piece to bring home and hang in the window. I hope someday when I give them to my little granddaughter, she'll look at them and remember that Grandma Debbie taught her to love art and color.

So pretty in the light.

At the end of our first working day in Asheville, we were invited to the home of the gallery owner for a tour of his private gardens. I get all light-headed and speechless over flats of pansies and impatiens. You can just IMAGINE how much fun it was to walk in this beautiful place...all through the acres and acres of gardens are pieces of very unique sculptural art.

So THIS is what holly plants do in the spring..........

Because of the abundant shade provided by forests of old trees, woodland plants and hostas thrive in these gardens. Never too hot, never too cold. Never too light. And lots of moisture.

Yes, the garden not only sprawls for acres in every direction but it's also multi-level with little paths winding the way to every nook and cranny, many which have themes.

Inside the house, it's just as cozy and inviting. They really do "LIVE" the motto of their store. The home is just full of "art for living".

You've probably heard me say it before when I've returned home from a trip. It's true. Every time I walk in after one of these trips I set my suitcase down, look around at my own place and say to myself, "I've got to paint this place..........."